Harry was impressed. "Why don't you hunt her?"
"Well, she was never made." Alicia used the term "made," which meant she was never trained. "And I haven't been back long enough to sort all this out. So I thought I'd breed her and hunt this fall something already made. Of course, when I go looking, the price will triple."
"Let me handle that," Harry offered.
"I will. You're charged with finding me a bold field hunter who is also stunning. I hate pedaling to the jumps. Give me a forward horse. And if you want to work with any three- or four-year-olds, let me know."
"I'll do it." Harry smiled, for she loved these kinds of challenges. As they walked back toward the stables and a hot cup of tea, Harry remarked, "Toby's one brick shy of a load."
"Certainly seems to be the case."
"Alicia, Toby must have indigestion from all the shoe leather he's eaten."
Alicia laughed her silvery laugh. "From putting his foot in his mouth."
Harry opened the stable door; the sunlight glinted off her wedding band. She smiled. "Will you speak to Rick?"
"I will, but I expect our sheriff knows Toby is suffering from some kind of mental distress." Alicia headed back to the large office to make a hot pot of tea.
"Why was Arch here?" Harry sat at the coffee table.
Alicia answered, "Toby wanted a witness who isn't a friend but not an enemy. That's how he phrased it. Very odd."
"It was good of Arch to come."
"I expect Arch knows Toby is falling apart. His presence did somewhat calm Toby." She paused, her beautiful face delightful to behold. "How is it having Arch in Crozet?"
Harry, relaxed with Alicia, told her, "It was funny. He showed up two weeks before my wedding. No one knew he'd made a deal with Rollie. Why would we? He was on the other side of the country and wasn't in touch with anyone in Crozet—the old gang, I mean."
"Mim knew first, of course. She called me. Then I called Susan." Harry shrugged. "It didn't seem like a big deal to me."
Alicia smiled. "Good, but I bet Susan wanted amplification."
Harry waved her hand. "Girl talk. Susan loves it. I can't stand it. Funny, she's my best friend. We're so different."
"Maybe that's why you're best friends."
"Could be. Fair asked me last night if Arch's return changed anything. Why?" Now Harry threw up both her hands.
"Harry, for a smart woman you can be dumb." This was said with good humor.
"I know." She did, too. "I told him I had fun while it lasted but that was then and this is now. I didn't bring up BoomBoom. We'd been all through that." Harry stopped, gulped. "Did I put my foot in it?"
"Of course not. No one comes into your life without a history."
"Whew."
"And Fair is divinely attractive." Alicia's eyes danced.
"BoomBoom, too. She's so... uh, womanly. I never felt I measured up. I used to wonder if I was really a woman."
"Harry." Alicia was surprised.
"Well, I'm not very feminine."
"Of course you are. You're outdoorsy. Natural." Alicia sipped more tea, then thoughtfully added, "Feminine and masculine are social constructs. Male and female are physical reality. As long as a person frets over whether or not they are feminine enough or masculine enough, they'll always be someone's victim."
"What do you mean?"
"An insecure person looks for another person or an organization to affirm them. My business," Alicia referred to her acting career, "is full of gorgeous people who really don't believe in themselves deep down."
"You did."
"Yes."
"How did you do it?"
"I had the great advantage of country life as a young person. I was grounded, literally. And I had Mary Pat to guide me at a critical time in my life." She leaned forward. "Harry, I don't think of myself as especially feminine, despite my public persona. And I don't , care. I'm happy within. If the world sees me as a middle-aged sex bomb," she laughed uproariously, "that's their problem."
"Alicia, I wish I were more like you."
"Harry, be more like you." Alicia reached over and touched her hand. "There's only one Harry Haristeen. Be that wonderful person."
When Harry finally drove back through St. James, she thought of something her mother used to say to her when she didn't immediately accomplish what she wanted. "God's delay isn't God's denial."
"Hmm." She grunted to herself. She'd lived long enough to know that friends and even strangers give one marvelous gifts and insights quite unexpectedly.
"Is she going to hum? I hope not."Pewter shifted in her seat.
"You know, kids, I miss my mother," Harry said with deep feeling.
19
"Tick."Pewter maliciously stuck one claw into Tucker's fur.
"Ouch."The dog felt the point dig under her skin.
"See." Pewter flicked the offending insect onto the kitchen floor, where she gleefully speared it as the blackish red goo oozed out.
"Thought Fair put that stuff on your neck."Mrs. Murphy, like all cats, could rid herself of ticks more easily than a dog.
Fleas were another story.
"Washed off when we were caught in the thunderstorm."Tucker hated ticks."He put it on the first of the month, which was only the day before."
"But it's still coolish and damp. They love that. You'll be infested if you go into the wrong places!"Mrs. Murphy worried about her buddy.
"Yeah, like the world."Pewter stabbed the tick a second time.
"That's a happy thought,"Tucker grumbled.
"What about that gun in Toby's truck? No happy thought there?"Mrs. Murphy asked the corgi, whom she and Pewter had informed of the P95PR.
"I'm surprised Harry didn't jump the gun, forgive the pun, and assume he was going to shoot Hy—or himself maybe. She's still reading about things that can attack her grapes. She's occupied and no danger to herself,"Tucker replied.
Harry, in the kitchen, stepped on the bleeding tick and slid. "What the—" She looked down. "The scourge of the earth."
"Tucker had the tick. Probably carrying Lyme disease."Pewter was a font of optimism.
"Shut up."The corgi flattened her ears.
"I'm terrified. I'm so scared I might widdle,"Pewter said.
"You only do that on the way to the vet's office,"Tucker fired back.
"I donot,"Pewter huffed.
"I'm amazed none of us did when we ran into the bear's cave."Mrs. Murphy thanked her stars the mother had a full belly and was nursing contentedly.
"We were lucky. But like she said, she'd rather eat berries, honey, and sweets. Likes grubs, too. How can any animal eat a fat white grub?"Pewter grimaced.
"Chickens love them."Tucker liked chickens, although their clucking could get on her nerves.
"Wonder if Harry will get more chickens? That last hen was Methuselah's chicken. I bet she was the oldest Rhode Island Red in the world."Pewter fondly recalled the ancient bird who cackled with delight to the last day of her uneventful life.
"When Harry puts straw in the chicken coop we can bet on more chickens."Tucker watched Harry wipe up the tick goo.
"All right, you all, I'm going to warm up Miranda's corn bread. Wish we hadn't missed her."
Miranda Hogendobber had driven by when Harry was at St. James. Finding no one home, she placed a large tin of corn bread on the screened-in porch with a note.
"Susan!"Tucker barked as she heard Susan's Audi station wagon turn off the state road onto the farm road.
Harry checked the old railroad clock on the wall, knew it was too early for Fair, but put up coffee since someone was coming. She trusted Tucker.
Within minutes Susan burst through the door, tulips in a pot. "Can you believe the color?"
Harry inspected the yellow tulips with deep red throats, red lines fanning out to the end of the petals. "They're incredible."
"My garden," Susan boasted. "For you."
"Thanks." Harry kissed her on the cheek. "Coffee, tea, Co-Cola, what?"
"Fresh coffee."
"Still percolating."
"I could use it. If it's not coffee, then it's my hot chocolate."